Apocalypse Now
by KelliP
Summary: Doomsday has arrived. The end of the world. According to Castle, that is, who tries to bring a little fun to the apocalyptic events. AU.


**A/N: **This is something I prepared a while back, uploaded to post before I left for holidays, but didn't because of how negative I felt about everything. Glad I managed the chance to post this. Feeling a little better now, so we'll see how everything pans out. In any case, hope everyone is enjoying the holiday season as much as I am. Enjoy.

* * *

**Apocalypse Now**

* * *

Her lungs burn as she climbs the stairs one by one, protesting movement and demanding air. Beckett inhales a deep breath, pauses, waits for the oxygen to settle in her system and relieve the constriction of her chest muscles. She's fit. Heads to the gym most days (and squeezes in some private workouts with Castle on the side), but the layers upon layers she's wearing do nothing but increase the effort it takes to keep her body moving upward. But with the blackout that shut down the entire city an hour ago, she's left with no option but to continue the tiresome journey up the stairwell to the loft.

By the time Beckett makes it to the eighth-floor landing, her chest is heaving with the effort it takes to keep her body moving upward. She swipes at a bead of sweat that rolls down her temple before tugging the thick gloves off her hands, yanking with a little more force as they catch on her wedding ring. The woollen scarf and heavy winter coat don't help, either, so she removes them both too. Even in the stairwell, the bitter New York winter air nips immediately at her skin, but for once it's welcome. She simply breathes in the cool air, lets it flood through her veins as she heads for the front door.

It doesn't take long for her to realise she's left the keys to her home at the precinct. She's rooting through her bag but her fingers come up empty, unable to clasp the cool metal with bumpy ridges. Beckett opens her lips to curse under her breath, but catches herself at the last second. No more of that. Instead, she lets out a sigh that's heavy with the weight of the day and the frustration that's followed her home.

With her winter garments all bundled in the crook of her left arm, she raises her right fist to rap against the heavy wooden door. She'll try and ring the line that operates specifically during blackouts at the front desk of the precinct, find out who's still there. Ask them to pick up her keys that she's sure are still sitting on the bench in the locker room and place them in safe-keeping overnight. For now, though, she wants to head nowhere but inside.

When no one answers the door, Beckett leans against the frame, taps her fist against the door again. The sound of her knuckles echo in the open hallway, and she has to give the noise a moment to die down before she can listen for the tell-tale sign of someone moving through the loft to answer the door.

Nothing.

Persistent, she knocks once more. This time, there's a quiet chatter from the other side of the door. The words are too muffled to comprehend, but she can distinctly hear Castle's low voice floating out underneath the door. There are pauses in the conversation, though. As if he's talking to someone else she can't hear. Either a phone call, or someone's voice that is too quiet to be picked up by her ears.

"Castle?" she calls out.

His voice falls silent.

"Castle, answer the door."

There's another long pause before he finally responds. "I'm just- uh… just give me a second."

Beckett rolls her eyes, huffs in frustration. It's a long minute of waiting and listening to someone shuffling on the other side of the wall before the door finally creeps open. Castle's head pops around the corner and he throws it back to invite her in. With narrowed eyes aimed directly at Castle, she squeezes through the small gap he's keeping open for her. She barely takes one step into the loft before she stops. No- before she's _forced_ to stop. Her mouth parts to a small _o_, eyes wide and unblinking in disbelief.

Castle, the ridiculous man, has transformed the entirety of downstairs into a fort.

"What the hell have you done?" she breathes out on a long breath. Her eyes track around the room slowly in disbelief, scanning the weight-height canopy of blankets before they finally rise to Castle's.

He's staring at her sheepishly, a small but proud grin curling his lips upwards. "Kick of your shoes, Beckett. Time to bunker down for the apocalypse."

Beckett stares completely deadpanned at him. "Oh, come on, Castle. I thought we went over this."

He doesn't back down. Their years together have taught him to stand his ground (a skill which has become something of a pain in the many ridiculous situations just like this she's often found herself in).

"Yes, we did," Castle starts off in agreement. "But that was before the blackout. The _citywide_ blackout. This is just the start, Kate. We've got to be ready."

Beckett scoffs. "Castle, you're being ridiculous. It's just a blackout."

"I can count the number of times the entirety of Manhattan has blacked out on one hand. I'm _not_ being ridiculous."

She rolls her eyes at him. Deny it all he wants- he _is_ ridiculous.

"The world is not going to end," she growls.

Castle shrugs. "Believe what you want to believe, Beckett. We expect your attendance at the campout in our Doomsday fort. When the world ends, we should be all together. A family."

Castle shoots her one last insistent look for good measure before he spins away from her, allowing her no opportunity to protest. Once he turns, he drops onto all fours and ducks his head to take off underneath the sea of blankets swamping her apartment. Beckett simply shakes her head in slow amusement as she watches his figure disappear.

Such a child.

But in the next moment, she realises she has no choice but to follow him. The blanket fort is elaborate, stretching from the cupboard and table beside the front door to hang over the back of the couch. From there, it extends out to the kitchen countertop. It even runs across from the staircase to the bookshelves, which are now void of their usual books in order to tie a string of rope around the doorframe for support. Where Castle bought all these blankets from, or how he managed to tie so many together, remains a mystery to her, but one thing is for certain.

Unless she intends on spending the night in the ten square feet of space at the front door, she's actually going to have to get down on her hands and knees and _crawl_.

There's a dim light shining through the blankets, signalling to where a flashlight sits across the room. She can see the faint outline of bodies thrown back against the thin sheets, the dark shadowy figures bathed in a contrasting warm glow from the light. Digging a harsh tooth into her lower lip, Beckett contemplates just how long it would take her to work her way through the sheets and over to the bedroom when she hears an excited squeal coming from the direction of the glow. It fills her heart with a shot of overwhelming love, and with that she gives in to this ridiculous idea Castle has concocted.

Beckett bends her knees and lets her body sink to the floor. The moment her hands hit the ground to steady herself, she has to suppress a groan in the back of her throat so the sound is nothing but a chocked rumble. Apparently, Castle hasn't just built a blanket fort.

He's built a _maze_.

"Why did you make it a maze?" she calls out to him. He's long gone, having taken off through the paths he's already memorised, but she knows he'll still be able to hear her.

"So the zombies won't be able to find us," comes his hushed reply from across the room.

"You do realise they can just walk straight through the sheets?" she asks dryly as she takes off down the left fork in the road.

"They're _zombies_, Beckett. Not the smartest creature out there."

Beckett curls her lips back into a tight line, holds back the retort that bubbles on her tongue. No point digging herself further into this conversation.

"Castle, where am I going?" she calls out again.

"Where are you?"

"Uh- by the support beam."

"Keep going left, as if towards the staircase," he tells her. "Then take the next two rights. When you pass the kitchen counter, take the second left, then the first right."

Clicking her tongue, Beckett follows his instructions. The loft being spacious, it's a long few minutes as she shuffles awkwardly forward on her hands and knees. Each turn is taken with a frustrated sigh when she pokes her head around the corner only to find Castle is still nowhere to be seen. Then, finally, the light she'd seen from the door begins to spill through the dark caverns Castle has built from blankets. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Beckett crawls eagerly toward the light, ready to get off her hands and knees and find out just what Castle has created for the apparent evening campout in the living room. After one final turn, she finally crawls out of the maze and into a larger open area.

"Mama!"

The cry of her name bubbles affection in her heart once again, the soft patter of their daughter's footsteps across the hardwood floors a beautiful rhythm in her ears. Beckett's lips curl back over her teeth as she breaks into a beaming smile. She rocks back on her knees, leans against her propped up feet to support her weight on her toes as she throws her arms wide open. Small enough to stand upright under the overhead sheet, the little girl comes running on shaky legs to throw herself into Beckett's arms. Greeted with a big, smacking kiss on the lips, she scoops her girl up.

"Hey, Mia," she calls out softly. "How are you?"

"Daddy-" The girl takes a pause, turns to her father as if for reassurance. "Daddy said we camp."

Over the young girl's head, Beckett narrows her eyes and throws Castle a warning look. He's too busy beaming at the both of them to realise she's dirty about manipulating their daughter to guilt her into giving in.

"Mmm hmm," Beckett eventually returns her attention back to the girl in her arms. "Going to camp out here tonight, baby."

"Dora?" Mia asks. She twists then, points to a flat silver rectangle that lays discarded on the side of the tent.

Ah. The iPad. An apparently essential Doomsday accessory.

"She'll get bored," Castle voices, as if reading her mind.

More Dora. Great. The girl can't get enough.

But Beckett nods in agreement to Mia's request, knowing it will put the girl to sleep. "Sure."

"Not if the dragons get you first," Castle growls out playfully. He dives for Mia, slinking an arm around her small waist and easily dragging the girl back. She squeals playfully as his fingers tickle her ribcage, his mouth snapping to make loud chomping noises at her ear. Mia squirms in his arms as if trying to escape the imaginary dragon.

"No dragons!" their daughter squeals out.

Beckett arches an eyebrow. "Dragons?"

"What else did you want me to tell her about Doomsday?" he questions. "Don't want her to have nightmares."

With one last chomping noise, Castle releases the small girl from his grasp. With a childish squeal, she sprints for Beckett, throws herself into her mother's arms. She can feel a small nose digging into her neck as Mia buries her face to hide, but her small fingers tug insistently on the collar of her white business blouse to demand attention. So Beckett pulls back just a touch to peer down at her daughter and listen to the story she seems so insistent on telling.

"Daddy said dragons take princesses away," Mia explains. Each word is spoken slowly, the sentence broken rather than fluent, but it's completely comprehensible. For her young age, she's intelligent. Learns quickly, absorbs everything.

"But the dragons can't find us here, can they?" Castle prompts her to continue.

Mia shoots her father a warning look to _be quiet_ because _she's telling the story_. It's the same one Beckett often has scowled across her face, a look that her daughter has mimicked to perfection.

"We built a fort," the young girl smiles at her. "Safe from dragons."

"So they can't take the princess of the castle away," Castle comments as a play on their own name.

Beckett shakes her head, but there's a smile curling up on her lips at the playfulness and joy in their daughter's eyes as she gazes around the small room. She follows Mia's eye line, brushing over the pink pillows and comforter Castle has brought downstairs, to the favourite pink teddy she couldn't live without for the night, over the small electronic lanterns that sit in the corners of the tent to light the space. The love for Castle that he's done all this just for their little girl (well, mostly for their daughter) bubbles up inside her, threatens to spill out at any moment.

But then her stomach rumbles loudly, drawing everyone's attention to the lack of fuel inside her body. "Have you eaten?" Beckett asks Castle.

He shakes his head. "No. We waited for you to get home."

"Pizza! Pizza!" Mia cries, slaps an insistent hand on Beckett shoulder. She grabs her daughter's hand to stop the action, quietly scolding her for not being gentle. Then she glimpses up at Castle.

His lips are pressed together guiltily. "I may have promised pizza before the blackout. We had to block off the fridge to get the fort to hold."

She arches an eyebrow at him, and Castle instantly knows what she's picked up on.

"Yes, yes. We built the fort before the blackout. Have to prepare for the apocalypse, Kate. No time to do anything once it's already started. And it _has_ started-" he tells her, "-as evident by the citywide blackout."

With a scoff, she relents. Goes along with this crazy plan he's hatched for Doomsday. Mia is enjoying this, after all, and so she turns back to the small child still in her arms.

"Can't get pizza," Beckett tells her softly. "There's a blackout. Sorry, baby girl."

"How about a PB&J instead?" Castle suggests.

The comment about the apocalypse rolls off her tongue before her mind can stop it. "What? No baked beans? Canned tomato soup? Spam?"

Castle narrows his eyes, but makes no verbal response to her joke. Just moves for the pre-packed cooler he's filled with food instead of ice and begins to pull out the essentials for their doomsday meal. As he goes about making their sandwiches in silence, Beckett shifts to sit on the ground with crossed legs so Mia can settle in her lap when she eats. As they wait for their food, she plays idly with her daughter's hair. Her long fingers comb through it to work out the knots, but Mia's hair is so silky there's not one. Satisfied, she begins sectioning the short hair, letting the strands fall in between her knuckles as she twists each part into a braid that will never hold.

They're halfway through their sandwiches when it starts. There's next to no warning. No gentle tapping on the window. No soft patter on the roof. Just a sudden downpour, the heavy rain pounding against the glass as it plummets from the dark clouds she'd seen circling the city on her way home. The lightening flashes, lights up the room even through the blankets, the sharp crash of the thunder following only a moment later.

Mia forgets her sandwich, lets it tumble from her lap and onto the floor as she spins in her mother's arms. Small hands clutch onto Beckett's neck as the girl presses her face into her chest. Beckett sets aside her own sandwich, curls her daughter tight in an embrace.

"Remember what we told you?" Beckett murmurs in Mia's ear, an attempt for the two-year-old to see reason she never will. "It's just thunder. It can't hurt you. It's loud, but it won't hurt you."

The girl weeps anyway. Fat crocodile tears fall out her eyes and stream down her cheeks, soaking Beckett's shirt. She cries, the sounds choked as they escape her throat in terror. Beckett rests her cheek on Mia's head, stroking the back of her head soothingly as she whispers reassurances in her ear.

If the storm keeps up, it's going to be a long night.

* * *

Even with the speed with which it had settled overhead, it's long time before the storm passes by. It's an even longer time before Mia calms down from the terror of the storm, and it's not until she's watched many episodes of Dora the Explorer does she finally fall asleep. Now, she's curled up against Beckett's side, tight fists clinging to her mother's shirt even as she sleeps.

"I have to admit," Beckett whispers as she feels Castle presence huddle up behind her, "It's an awful coincidence the entire city had a blackout _and_ a thunderstorm tonight."

"Realising the apocalypse is a real possibility?" sounds Castle's teasing voice.

Beckett snorts. "Not even in the slightest. Still, this- being all together- is nice. Would be nicer in a proper bed rather than this air mattress, but it's still nice."

Castle hums quietly, trails soft fingertips up and down her arm, unable to reach around her as Mia snuggles against her chest. Still, Beckett sighs and relaxes back against him. Her eyes flutter shut, heavy, a battle with sleep settling in that she knows she'll loose any moment. Castle leans in, presses a kiss to the exposed skin on her neck.

"Sleep," he tells her. His breath is hot against her neck, his lip warm as he presses them to her skin once again. She sighs contently and gives in. Her body sags in his arms as she curls up beside their daughter, sleep already washing over her pleasantly when she hears the final comment Castle can't help but speak.

"I'll wake you when the zombies are here."


End file.
